Chapter 34: Zao Zao chews everywhere

Chapter 34: Zao Zao’s Biting Spree

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Everyone stared dumbfounded as the little cub, clutching the ghost bear, enthusiastically chomped on Amos's halo.

Wait, you evolved—since when does that involve biting halos?!

Amos's halo was perfectly healthy before—Stop! You’ll break it!!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!!"

"Let go already!"

"Amos!"

The place erupted into chaos.

Amos froze too. He could feel Xiao Chuzao's tiny sharp teeth chomping down on his crown—with surprising force.

The gnawing sent shivers down Amos's spine—literally.

Impressive. Not even an entire army of beasts had ever given Amos such a sensation. Xiao Chuzao pulled it off.

By the time the adults managed to "peel" the little cub off Amos's halo amidst the chaos, several minutes had passed.

They stared at Amos's crown halo.

They scrutinized it—

They leaned in so close that Amos flinched back, uncomfortable. Just as he was about to pull his halo back, An Ya spoke up.

"Bro, did you see it?"

Frey: "Uh... yeah, looks like it."

Amos paused. "What?"

"Unless our eyes are playing tricks, dude, your halo seems to have... two little bite marks on it."

Amos: ?

"Yep. It’s barely noticeable unless you squint—Amos, do you feel any discomfort?"

Amos: "..."

"That mental image is disturbing. Otherwise, no."

Amos didn’t actually feel any physical discomfort, but the thought of his halo sporting two bite marks made his teeth ache slightly. He turned to look at the little cub.

To the adult Crown Clan members, who stood over two meters tall, the kid was tiny. Combined with his naturally slower development among the Crown Clan, he was a total baby. The ghost bear made from Amos's coat almost completely obscured him when he held it.

Still wearing a fever patch, the little cub looked spacey. After biting someone's "brain," he even seemed a bit pouty: "...Zao Zao... Zao Zao couldn’t bite through..."

If you had actually bitten through, that would’ve been bad news?!

Amos felt a bit dazed—wasn’t he the victim here?

How did this little brat make it seem like his crown halo had bullied him instead?

Here's the improved translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

The three Crown Clan members in their prime stared at the little one.

This little guy kept challenging the Crown Clan's assumptions constantly.

"Is he hungry?" An Ya ventured.

Amos considered, then turned his wrist over. Slowly, a sword formed in his palm—a Psychic Weapon manifested from his psyche.

After another thought, Amos glanced at the sharp blade and carefully held out the hilt to the little one's mouth.

Xiao Chuzao moved instantly, giving them no time to react before chomping down.

*Crunch!—*

A crisp sound rang out, making all of them flinch simultaneously.

An Ya scrambled back several feet, bouncing nervously. "Half my body's gone numb—I'm not joking," she said.

The bewildered toddler seemed slightly satisfied after this bite.

Not knowing if eating a Psychic Weapon might affect a youngling or whether too much could be harmful, Amos didn’t dare let the little one take another bite.

He simply lowered his head and examined the psychic sword in his hand.

A small notch—a tooth mark—now dented the hilt.

*Yikes—*

Those tiny teeth were weirdly strong.

In Xiao Chuzao’s vision, the chaotic, multicolored "threads" floating in the air grew even more vivid after he took that bite of Amos’s Psychic Weapon. Though still dazed and feeling kinda off, the little one was drawn to Amos’s crown—it looked far too delicious. And now, after tasting the psychic sword, the "threads" became even clearer in shape and color.

But the little one paid them little mind, failing to notice the few dark "threads" now clinging to his own tiny crown.

Having finished gnawing on Amos’s Psychic Weapon, he slowly looked at Frey and An Ya—

Their halos still glowed.

The little one wrinkled his nose, sniffed the air, and his eyes lit up—

"Yummy!"

Struggling despite his discomfort, he pushed himself up and toddled determinedly toward the two crowns he hadn’t yet tasted.

Frey and An Ya: "…"

The two took a quick step back.

As adorable as he was, and even if it didn’t seem to cause any harm, the idea of letting Zao Zao take a bite out of their "brains" was still hard to handle in such a short time.

Thus, the scene in Dwight’s living room turned downright bizarre.

A tiny youngling, clutching a ghost bear nearly his own size, lurched unsteadily across the sofa with uneven steps. Meanwhile, the towering figures of Frey and An Ya dodged behind the couch—not too quickly, lest the clearly unwell little one took a bad fall.

He was utterly fixated on their crown halos.

For the Crown Clan, this was flat-out scary—not only could he touch their halos, but he even dared to sink his teeth into them. And the first one he’d bitten? Amos’s halo.

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Is this reasonable? This makes no sense!

An Ya took a moment to grab a fruit from the nearby tray and handed it to the little one.

The cub looked dazed, his eyes glazed with fever. After a sluggish pause, he composed his cute little face, sniffed the fruit, then tilted his head with a look of disdain.

-Not this one.

It wasn't until Amos picked the cub back up, withdrew his crown's halo, and put the pacifier back into the little one's mouth that the cub settled down again. The sweet and fragrant cub formula soothed him as he clung to the ghost bear, sucking eagerly.

He didn't even notice the delicate 'thread' flickering atop his tiny halo.

In a remote corner of the Crown Clan's royal court.

Behind multiple layers of mechanical defenses, a man sat by a huge window—his long, silky hair framing a calm, refined face, though his overall demeanor was icy cold.

He sat motionless by the window.

Like countless Crown Clan members before their passing, Hale gazed at the snow-covered landscape of Saint Cas.

A strange, calm madness lingered in the air.

Hale closed his eyes.

He seemed half-tranced, straining to hear those chaotic, discordant voices.

They whispered—Stop struggling, surrender. You've lost too much already—friends, students. What do you have left?

Only a broken, dying body.

There's no better time to yield than now.

Yes, someone was urging him—Give up, surrender...

Meanwhile, on the other side, the little cub finished his formula, smacked his lips, and nestled into Amos' arms. Unable to resist, Amos handed him the freshly condensed hilt of a psychic sword, warning him to take just one more bite. The cub's muffled, dopey voice chimed happily, "Yummy, eat eat."

His glowing little halo tugged at that 'thread,' and the newly sprouted branch from yesterday swayed like a new leaf bud, full of vitality.

In the dark corner, Hale, lost in despair, was abruptly startled by a child's voice that shattered his thoughts.

"Yummy, eat eat—*crunch crunch crunch*—"

Hale: ...?

Though he didn't understand why, Hale instinctively shuddered before the voice vanished without a trace.

*

Confused, he turned, his mood thoroughly disrupted—Was that a hallucination?

Meanwhile, in the Contaminated Zone.

The Saint Cas Empire's team had come multiple times.

Yet the Crown Clan twins, Job and Joshua, kept refusing contact.

Worse—while they had initially seen Job and Joshua together, Joshua's presence had since disappeared.

Recent reports led the Empire to meet and decide to retrieve Job and Joshua. Because, no matter what, the fall of the last generation of the Crown Clan—was coming far too fast.

"Don't come back here—"

Job stood on the barren wasteland of an abandoned planet—a primary pollution zone.

Around him, carcasses of reptilian monsters lay strewn in chaotic heaps. His Psychic Weapon, a bone-like whip, coiled around his form. His crown still held most of its shape, gleaming with silver-black radiance—except for the fracturing edges that kept crumbling away.

"We left the Saint Cas Empire long ago."

"Prince Job—your condition is critical. Shouldn't we evacuate the pollution zone first?"

The advance team kept their distance, obeying imperial protocol.

Crown Clan members who entered pollution zones voluntarily always had advanced mental deterioration.

They couldn't risk assumptions—only follow the Emperor's orders.

"Prince Job, we mean you no harm."

"Doesn't matter—"

Job shot them a frosty look.

"Suit yourselves."

The bone whip dissolved into mist. His red-tinged eyes glacial, he turned to leave.

"Prince Job! Where's Prince Joshua? Isn't he with you?"

Footsteps followed.

Job stopped. Threw a look over his shoulder.

That gaze was murderously cold.

For citizens of the Saint Cas Empire, seeing the famously elegant Crown Clan act so damn hostile was unheard of.

They locked up, dead in their tracks.

"Listen good. I know Amos gave you those photos. But I'm not your prince anymore. Follow me again, don't say I didn't warn you—"

The squad leader went flying—sent crashing into a monster's ribcage.

"I hate you. Neither me nor Josh ever got why we had to protect you pathetic lot. A bit of shelter handed out, and suddenly we're your keepers? We're not like those Crown Clan saints you worship."

He turned, melting into the wasteland.

"Joshua... he's gone. Couldn't find a reason to keep breathing. Pleaded with his own damn brother to end it. So I put him down like he asked."

Job's eyes were black holes sucking in all light. His words cut like frozen steel.

That was the core damn difference with this generation.

Their crowns hadn't shattered. Not yet. But their sanity? Already dust.

By the time the team shook themselves awake, Job had vanished.

The trackers still pinged both signatures—right there in the sea of rotting carcasses.

Here is the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

A group of stunned soldiers snapped to attention and hurriedly pulled their squad leader from the heap of corpses.

The squad leader coughed harshly, fighting back nausea from the overwhelming stench of blood.

"Report this to command immediately. His Majesty and the other Princes must know that Prince Joshua isn’t actually dead. But given Prince Job’s current state, this exceeds our capabilities."

Moreover, they had no idea about Prince Joshua’s situation—killed by his own flesh and blood… Was this the first time for the Crown Clan?

"Yes, sir!"

"Sir, about Prince Job…"

These advance troops were all young soldiers from the Saint Cas Empire.

They were acquainted to some degree with the Crown Clan, but most they'd encountered were still publicly active.

As a mythical long-lived race, the Crown Clan’s lifespans were extraordinarily long. Even restricted by their crowns, they vastly outlived ordinary interstellar citizens. The Crown Clan members they'd met were those like Amos or others living within the Saint Cas Empire—never someone as terrifying as Prince Job, who harbored such open hostility toward them.

The squad leader, much older than the rest, wiped his brow.

"You don’t understand. If Prince Job didn’t want us to find him, we wouldn’t have seen him at all. And do you really think that horde of beasts he cut down like wheat was easy to deal with? Consider yourself lucky to return without a scratch."

But now?

Aside from being drenched in blood, was anyone in their Saint Cas Empire advance team even injured?

They'd only been frightened by Prince Job. He looked fierce, but he hadn’t thrown him into rocks—just tossed him into the revolting tangle of flesh and organs, with few bones sharp enough to wound him.

"The Princes are suffering…"

The squad leader muttered as he got up.

"Move out, double time. We'll await His Majesty’s next orders."

*

Meanwhile, a top-secret meeting was underway in the Saint Cas Empire.

Only a few officials and military commanders were present.

The situation with Job and Joshua was critical.

If either were truly lost, it would be a devastating blow to the Crown Clan. Very few among them could swiftly subdue and retrieve those two.

The Fourth Prince Fei Man Dwight, currently returning, was one—but still distant. The other Crown Clan members' crowns were precarious, especially in that contaminated zone.

Finally, Amos decided to go himself.

Previously, Amos would never have ventured there. His psychic energy had been teetering on the edge, needing release and stabilization—if possible.

But after Xiao Chuzao’s intervention, Amos had never felt the Psychic Crown so calm, nearly devoid of the sensation of cracking.

When the meeting concluded, everyone exited through the front door.

An Ya and Frey exchanged looks with Amos, who remained at his seat.

"His scent lingered by the door since the middle of the meeting."

"Hm."

Amos stood up and pushed open the back door, hesitating briefly.

The lounge connected to the conference room was now entirely covered in a soft, beige shag carpet—so plush that sitting directly on it wouldn’t feel cold at all.

As the door swung open, the little one leaning against it tipped backward for a moment. Amos lifted his leg to steady the child, letting the little one rest against his thigh instead.

The little one blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

He was dressed in a white fleece pajama set, including a little hood with two pointed ears sewn onto it—mimicking the Crown Clan’s ears in their true form. Fluffy, they framed his round, rosy-cheeked face. His temperature had been running hot these past few days, yet he remained unusually sensitive to the cold.

Hence the current sight: bundled up in thick layers, yet with a white fever patch stuck to his forehead.

In his arms, he clutched the spirit bear Amos had made for him. Originally just a quickly made toy, it had become even more crumpled after two days of being hugged during sleep—now looking even uglier.

But the little one was crazy about it, refusing to let go no matter what.

Still feverish from his active psychic energy, his reactions remained sluggish, making him seem soft and dazed, his awareness not entirely clear.

The good news, however, was that he was slowly sorting through his memories and could now recognize people.

"Papa—"

The little cub scrambled up, one arm hugging the spirit bear while the other tiny hand pawed weakly, asking to be held.

"Little Highness* has been waiting for you for quite some time."

Steward Mori stood by the door, smiling as he spoke.

Amos crouched down, scooping up the warm little bundle, and carried him out of the room.

"Should we reinforce that bear for him?"

Frey glanced over.

"It looks like it’s about to fall apart."

"Better not touch it for now... The little one isn’t in his right mind these days."

An Ya whispered from the side.

"One wrong move, and he’ll start wailing."

The cub was feverish and cranky, so his tolerance for being bothered was low—far more prone to crying than before.

Back when they had confirmed that Xiao Chuzao wasn’t the result of a plot but rather a little one of the Crown Clan from an unknown place, their initial sympathy had only deepened.

Still, many questions remained unanswered. With so much happening day and night, they hadn’t yet figured out the little one’s past—where exactly he had lived, what his circumstances had been.

Many things required more information before they could make further judgments.

But one thing was certain: this cub was without a doubt their child, a Dwight.

"Sleep well?"

*[Little Highness: a term of endearment for young nobles]*

The little cub was hugging the spirit bear, reaching out to tug at Amos's messy hair, gazing dazedly at Amos for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Zao Zao woke up, dada..."

He wore a fluffy hat, the little ears on it swaying slightly as he clung to that scruffy bear.

"Bear’s awake too."

The little one seemed particularly attached to this crudely made bear.

He never let go of it wherever he went.

Mori had once tried to temporarily take it away to fix it, worried it’d fall apart, but the little one refused.

Amos looked at the scruffy bear he had made, rubbing his temples.

Especially since the fabric he had chosen was too rough for the little one—he hadn’t anticipated the child clinging to it for so many days. Every morning, after insisting on sleeping with it, the cub’s soft cheeks would be chafed red.

And given how the little one treasured it—Amos found it a bit odd.

He had already carried the little cub to the first-floor area.

This area was now the Crown Clan’s private quarters.

He asked softly, "Zao Zao, why do you insist on holding it all the time? How ‘bout Daddy gets you a new one? Your cheeks get sore, don’t they?"

Not only that, but he wouldn’t let go even during meals, his eyes glued to it.

Why... did he have to hold it all the time?

Xiao Chuzao hugged the little bear, blinking his big eyes.

"Because if I don’t see it... it’ll break."

His tiny voice carried a hint of hesitation before his eyes drooped sadly the next second.

"If Zao Zao doesn’t watch it properly, it’ll break. Others... aren’t the same."

Zao Zao had almost nothing of his own, and he had experienced this before.

He had lived alone, as if the world had no place for him—the Angels kept their distance, holed up in a flimsy little nest with little shelter. If the place where he stored his things was even slightly affected by natural disasters or magic, he’d lose everything.

One slip-up, and he’d have nothing left.

"Alright, then let Daddy fix it for you later, okay?"

Amos cut him off gently.

Though the little one was still feverish and generally uncomfortable, his vitals were stabilizing. That was why Amos had decided to personally retrieve Job and Joshua—he was taking Xiao Chuzao with him. The little one couldn’t stand being apart from him... or rather, Amos himself, still in a state of agitation, couldn’t bear to be apart from the cub either, especially since he hadn’t fully recovered.

"You can watch from the side."

The little cub, his train of thought interrupted, hugged the spirit bear silently and snuggled deeper into Amos’s arms. It was unclear whether he agreed or not—either way, the little one was being difficult these days, even occasionally nipping at their psyches.

At that moment, the sound of bickering came from the outermost room.

"Still kickin’, you old coot? Still meddlin’ with this crap?"

"Of course. Coulda shot you and you’d’ve slept right through it."

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

It was Mei Lun and Kaman, their conversation accompanied by clattering sounds.

Kaman's situation was a bit complicated.

He had previously declared his betrayal of the Saint Cas Empire, only to come waltzing back now, though his status hadn't been reinstated yet. Amos had dumped Kaman's affairs onto Mei Lun, who was determined to make his life difficult.

Like now—though Kaman had no work to handle, he had to check in here daily and stay the entire time.

Kaman knew Mei Lun was holding a grudge. The guy had wound up living here because, after being away for so long, he was unfamiliar with everyone in the royal court.

Apart from Amos remembering to feed him on time, Kaman had to handle everything else himself—even managing to dig up some ancient washing machine from who-knows-where.

After fiddling with it for a while, he dumped the clothes in and got ready to wash.

What kind of relic was this?

Mei Lun could hardly bear to look, yet Kaman seemed to think it was just fine.

No one had a clue where he'd even dug it up.

Mei Lun scoffed mockingly, "No offense, but dry-cleaning equipment is everywhere, and cleaning devices are all over the place. You're just being extra."

Kaman, with nothing better to do, retorted, "Self-sufficiency is the way to go. Isn't this a good way to prove myself? I'm here all day, every day—how's that for dedication?"

And what would you know about it? This thing has its uses!

Mei Lun couldn't take it anymore and kicked the idiot. Kaman dodged and chuckled—"Hey, since you're so worked up and neither of us has anything to do, wanna throw down? Burn off some energy? It's been a while since we sparred."

Kaman spoke, raising his hand, and his Psychic Weapon materialized.

This guy bounced back quick.

Mei Lun was about two seconds from rolling his eyes at him.

Amos walked over, cradling the little one.

That washing machine was probably a relic barely seen since the dawn of the interstellar age, rattling and clanking as the drum slowly rolled back and forth, propped against the wall.

Even Xiao Chuzao, clutching the ghost bear, was gobsmacked, eyes wide with wonder.

"Daddy... what's that thing?"

Amos stopped in his tracks.

Seeing the little one's curiosity, he gently settled him down, letting him get a bit closer to take a look.

Still hugging the ghost bear, the tiny figure took a couple of steps forward, cocking his head for a better look, revealing only half of his milky, pink-tinged cheek.

When the little one approached, Mei Lun and Kaman went statue-still, their eyes locked on him.

Of course, Kaman had another purpose in tinkering with all this strange gear—to grab the little one's attention.

He'd heard the little one had never seen stuff like this before.

Kaman had gotten his hands on some things other younglings liked, and sure enough, they worked—those now-uncommon relics, machinery, firearms, and so on. If he went through them one by one, wouldn't the little one be totally hooked?

Kaman's chest swelled with confidence.

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

He explained, "This is a washing machine, something from a long time ago—"

The little cub inched closer, fascinated—initially captivated by the washing machine.

After approaching, his gaze shifted to the Psychic Weapon—a spear held in Kaman's hand.

Kaman still wore his usual lazy slouch, though his tone was noticeably higher than before. He propped himself up casually with the spear in one hand.

Amos realized: "You'd better keep your Psychic Weapon farther away."

Kaman glanced at Amos: "What?"

Kaman soon understood what he meant.

Because the little cub's attention had completely shifted elsewhere—

"Crunch—"

"...Huh?"

Kaman slowly looked down, watching as the little cub approached him, tentatively opening his mouth. The next second, it seemed like he had bitten into something, munching away.

The crisp, crackling sound made his scalp tingle—what was that? There was clearly nothing there... Huh? Surely it couldn't be his psychic energy? No way, what kind of cub eats Crown Clan psychic energy?!

Kaman, who hadn't yet experienced the horror of Zao Zao devouring brains, hesitantly lifted his spear, staring at the tiny tooth marks before his eyes slowly widened—??? He stumbled, stunned, accidentally pressing some button on the washing machine. The previously leisurely spinning machine suddenly whirred violently.

Then, to Kaman's utter bewilderment, the washing machine started inching forward.

The cub stared blankly for two seconds before hugging his ghost bear tight and bolting back to Amos. He tugged at Amos's pants, pointing with a tiny hand—"Papa, that, that... the washing machine can run."

An Ya tapped her chin: "What model is this? It runs when it spins too fast—how old is this thing? Uncle Kaman, where did you even get it."

Kaman: ??? Wait, forget about the washing machine—is that really the issue here? Still reeling, he held up his Psychic Weapon spear, staring at the utterly expressionless Crown Clan members, and blurted out: "Huh?"